


The Faintest of Sparks

by Sonny



Series: The Common Sense of the Next [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working for Jennifer Taylor going on a year has been one of the better decisions Hunter has made in his life. A simple task for work leads him into a change in his life he never expected to want for himself. As someone who has started living for the moment and stopped planning for the future, Hunter is suddenly beginning to wonder if he hasn't given himself a chance to actually live his life to its best potential.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Faintest of Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't pass up this opportunity when the story idea hit me like a ton of bricks. I love writing Hunter and I've always wanted to write him something big--something monumental--that gives him a chance at claiming his happiness. With Molly Taylor--well, I've never liked that too many great ancillary characters were given the old heave-ho to hand more time to less interesting storylines that became monotonous. I hated that we never got to know more about how she turned out beyond a few episodes in S1. I mean, if her brother was one of the so-called main cast I would've thought she'd be moved front-n-center. Hmm, I guess there were more important things to feature than true human interaction... oh, well, that's what fan-fiction is for.
> 
> A response for the word "acid"...

 

~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~

**WORD IS... ACID**

~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~

 

Hunter stared down at the scrap of paper with the beautiful scrawled address as he leaned forward over the steering wheel and checked out house numbers. The GPS had brought him this far into the neighborhood, now he just had to locate the exact house. He was pressing the gas pedal-- _ more like tapping the surface _ \--to drive as slowly as possible. When he was reaching the end of the street, reaching a cul-de-sac, he decided he would park along the curb and take a stroll.

It was a nice day; a walk would be rather fitting after the hefty lunch he had at the diner.

The leisurely trek he was taking managed to make him feel a bit conspicuous--like at any time someone could look out their window and call the cops on him. He attempted to walk with less of his usual swagger as he tucked his hands into the front pocket of his jeans.

He could decipher the squeal of tires from far away, listening to them approach with the roar of a revving engine. He noticed the low-riding sports coupe coming toward him, down the street, with rap music blaring from all six speakers surrounding the occupants. The vehicle made a wide right turn into a long driveway up an incline; there was a groan of squeaky hinges with an opening and closing of a car door. The music continued to pump at a deafening decibel, forcing the two people to have an extremely loud conversation.

As Hunter walked beyond the row of dividing wall shrubbery, he caught sight of the tempting view of the bent-over mound of a perfect ass. Possibly female-related given the hour-glass shape of the body in the skimpy mid-riff baby-doll t-shirt and tight, hip-hugging jeans; he caught a glint of waves of varying hues of blonde locks cascading down to mid-back. She was bending down, dipping into the passenger window of the car still conversing with the driver.

Hunter paused in his tracks when the young female hurriedly stood upright and then proceeded to exclaim, “ _ **You DICK!!** _ ” to her hidden companion. He waited a bit before he continued his approach, unsure what exactly this moment called for him to do or say. A low-timbered screeching male voice could be heard and then the young female swiped back tendrils of blonde strands behind both ears. 

“ _ **Screw you if you think I'm just gonna take that kinda shit from you!** _ ” She leaned inside the interior to drag out her things--a school knapsack and a well-worn army green satchel. “ _ **Go back to your simpering, cocksucking nymphomaniac ho-bag, you jackass!** _ ”

Hunter couldn't help but smirk. He didn't know this young woman from Eve, but already he really sort of liked her dirty mouth. Plus, she had a lush backside and all the right curves to her willowy frame, taking in consideration he hadn't glanced at her face once. Although he felt partial to dark-haired chicks, there were enough shades of dark blondes and light browns that he could overlook the single detail,  _ if he had to _ . 

She pushed at the car's bodywork with the flat of her palms, then tried to kick the cheap plastics with her sneakered foot, only catching the thick rubber tire as Joe Cool was backing out of the driveway. She had both hands around her head, sliding them to meet over her face as she tried to wipe away her frustrations--possibly hurried tears of fettered emotions. And then she stomped her foot hard on the tarred surface, saying, “ _ **fuck me!!** _ ” and stood there with her head hanging low in regret at having, possibly, done a very stupid thing. She raised fists in mid-air and proclaimed, “ _ **why do men have to be such assholes?! Why?!** _ ”

Hunter was scared to come around the manicured hedge, being that he was a male and all. He had done some pretty shitty things to girls in his past, but she didn't know that. He decided to retake his footsteps backward, only so he could try to play it cool as if he had just stumbled into the area. Not that he had been watching the mini-soap opera unfold on her driveway in front of her house.

“Hey!”

Hunter immediately put on the brakes; his frame went stiff. Unlucky for him as he was held caught and would now have to suffer the will of a recently scorned woman. As he gradually turned on one foot, he found himself looking at what couldn't be who he had just witnessed duking it out with some young college punk who drove a shitty sorts car. From this new vantage point, the young female didn't look any older than fourteen--maybe fifteen—tops. He instantly felt disgusted with himself for thinking about her the way he had only minutes ago. “--uh, yeah...”

She had wandered down to the end of her driveway, past the shrubs. “You got a car?!”

Hunter liked to keep the distance between them, sorry he was forcing her to shrill her voice again toward him. “I got a truck.” He twisted only his upper body to point at his pick-up truck. It wasn't brand new, only a few years older than the present year. It got him from Point A to Point B, and helped him in his current job.

“Are you doing anything in the next hour?”

“Well, I'm working right now.” She didn't need to know details, just skimmed explanations. “I'm supposed to be picking up some supplies for my boss.”

She frowned, tiny hands cupping her slim hips which stretched what was left of her t-shirt over her breasts. The action hiked up the material even further, exposing more mid-riff with a belly piercing. She turned her head, scratching at her left cheek with her right hand. “I'll pay you cash upfront.”

“For  _ what _ ?” Hunter crossed his arms, never knowing there could be a female version of his old self, playing the role of a talented hustler.

“I forgot I needed a ride to my-- _ thing _ .” She gestured into the air, over her shoulder, as if her “thing” existed in the far-off distance.

“\--and you just kicked your ride to the curb.” Hunter nodded his head slowly as it dawned on him why she had been so upset with herself, almost about to cry.

“He was being a certifiable a-s-s to me.” Her tone dripped with  **acid** , showing how much she despised the chump right this second, which could morph into her liking him again if the guy actually had a set of balls to return and apologize for being such a douche to his girl. Young girls her age tended to run their emotions on an askewed scale so as to keep the drama at a high. She shook her head, taking a long swallow. “I just hate being treated like a child by someone whose IQ is lower than his baseball stats.”

Hunter chuckled, but went as quiet as the most intense pair of ice blue eyes pierced him, staring him down as if ready for verbal combat. “Do you normally offer yourself to random pedestrians or is this my lucky day?” he could tell she was stunned; he had given her back every bit of dripping sarcasm as she handed to him.

She released a tiny smirk off the side of her mouth. “I wasn't aware my neighborhood was chosen for the Stalker of the Month Club.”

“Touche, dude--touche...” Hunter caught her startled reaction to being called “dude”. “Look... I'm lost or I was handed a crappy set of directions.”

She lifted her chin, watching him take out the crumpled piece of scrap paper. “What's the address?”

“uh, 382 Cranston Drive.” Hunter cautiously approached, handing out the paper first toward her.

She didn't need to look at the writing. “It's 3-5-2 Cranston Drive. My mom's writing is terrible when she's rushed or in a hurry.” She furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes on the unfamiliar young man.

“Your-- _ Mom _ ?  _ You're Jennifer Taylor's daughter _ ?”

She chuckled heartily, folding her arms across her bare belly. “You say that like it's impossible or that I'm not supposed to be.”

“Well--here I've been thinking Sunshine was an only spawn...”

She sputtered out a louder laugh, almost bending over. “What--? Who--? Who the fuck is 'sunshine'?”

Hunter had to smile from the side of his mouth, only because he would never tire of busting Taylor's balls over the nickname, even when he wasn't around to defend his namesake. “Who do you think?” He raised an eyebrow to show her how to deduce the exact person in her family that would fit the descriptive name.

“ _ Oh, wow! Seriously! _ ” She went to cover her face with one hand, sliding over her mouth. “Sunshine? That--is so gosh-darn precious...  _ priceless _ ...” It sounded like she was hoarding ammunition for the next time she talked to her brother.

“Why? What do you call him with that scintillating vocabulary of yours?”

“I call him by name, genius.” She bit back at the taunt, chin held high.

“All right then. Good to know.” Hunter held out his hand to be taken. “I'm Hunter.”

She lowered her head to stare down at the out-stretched hand in offering, then back up to the strange face. “Mom didn't tell me to expect anyone.”

Slowly, Hunter took back his arm. “Not even a 'James Montgomery'? Or a Jimmy? Jim?”

She kept shaking her head at each name. “Who is that?”

Hunter put out his hand again. “Me!”

Reluctantly, she decided to take the hand this time. “Molly--Taylor, obviously.” She wrinkled her brow. “How many names do you have?”

“I only answer to one.”

Now she was the one who took her hand back, sliding the arm around to her backside. “And why are you here— _ exactly _ ?”

 

 **~*~the end**


End file.
